Mounting Grief
by Roguish Smile
Summary: Legolas struggles to defeat the grief he is suffering at the loss of life throughout the fellowship of the ring and the complications the arrival of his father brings after the defeat of Sauron.
1. Of Mithrandir

A Mounting Grief

By Roguish Smile

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Rating: PG

Summary: Legolas struggles to defeat the grief he is suffering at the loss of life throughout the fellowship of the ring and the complications the arrival of his father brings after the defeat of Sauron.

Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to JRR Tolien and have been taken from the books 'The Lord Of The Rings' and 'The Hobbit'. The author claims rights to the storyline and concept. No money is being made in the production of this fanfiction.

Warning: lots of angst, first time LOTR writer.

AN: Movie/book hybrid -verse, plus a tiniest bit AU. Trust me, it works. Elvish translations and explanations of the assumptions made at the end.

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1) Of Mithrandir

Gimli watched as Legolas wandered aimlessly towards the far side of the plateau they had found themselves on after leaving the mines. The elf had roused Merry and Pippin, got them to their feet somehow and now they were wandering about almost as aimlessly, though in the wrong direction. If Aragorn was expecting Legolas to be able to help him lead them away to Lothlórien, he was mistaken.

"Legolas." Gimli called him back, catching hold of the two hobbits as he did so, leading them back towards the others. His moment of weakness and grief was done, his dignity returned to him. For this was how dwarves grieved: with passion and violence, but quick to return to the lives still living. They were, above all, practical creatures. He waited for the elf's response, growling under his breath as he refused to even look back.

"Leave him be, my friend." Aragorn's soft voice behind him almost made him jump. "He needs a moment to collect himself." There was a sadness in his voice and Gimli knew that this would be the only outward sign of grief the strong-willed ranger would give.

"He has lost no more than we, Aragorn. He should be allowed no more time to grieve."

"You know little of elven grief, Gimli. Elves cannot pass away through illness or disease. No old age taints them. When their soul grows weary of middle earth they travel over sea to the Valar and their eternal rest. Grief alone, save fatal injury (and even then, what may be fatal to man or dwarf may still be healed by an elf), can separate an elf from his earthly body. We must allow Legolas his time to grief else we lose two of this fellowship, not one." The dwarf looked shocked.

"You think the elf might _die_ over the loss of the wizard!?"

"Legolas has known Gandalf longer than you or I have lived, Gimli. The grief of his passing must be strong in his heart. We must hurry towards Lórien. Perhaps beneath the elven trees he might find peace, if only for a moment before we continue on."

Even as they entered the cover of the trees, on the borders of the forest known as Lothlórien, the elf seemed calmed, less distraught. He had followed the others like a puppy, lost and fearful with sad wide eyes into the arms of the forest, and once there it seemed he regained a little of his composure. His hand was outstretched, brushing the silver bark of the trees. His eyes seemed distant. Gimli made a concerted effort to be more aware of their surroundings, knowing that the usual warnings had all come from the elf and he was in no state to be attentive.

The others too seemed to have gathered a little spirit on entering the forest. The sounds of water and nature around them were reassuring, soothing to the soul. He only hoped they would find the elves to be as amiable as their forest.


	2. Of Boromir

2) Of Boromir

"Let's hunt some orc."

It had been three days march since they had set out after the orcs who had taken Merry and Pippin. Aragorn pulled Legolas aside even as they hastened onwards. At first Legolas had led them at a punishing pace, the darkness that filled him a compass on the dark creatures' position. It would have given them away even if their tracks had not lain plain and undisguised on the ground. Knowing that he was fleeter of foot and would tire less quickly, Aragorn allowed him to travel ahead, watching for any sign of ambush or calling them onwards as they began to lag. But now he was beginning to worry, for it seemed that the elf _was_ tiring, and this was most unusual.

"Legolas, let us take a moment's rest. I would not have grief overwhelm you as we travel on the orcs." A flinch - which he would not have seen if he had not been looking - confirmed his suspicions. Legolas was grieving for two lives now and though the elf had barely known the guard of Gondor the grief was no less potent to him.

"I have promised my bow to this task, Aragorn, and I shall swear it again if you doubt me." He replied quickly and adamantly.

"It is not doubt that guides my hand here, but worry. I see the strain in your eyes. I would not have you fall to grief even as we need you most."

"Aragorn, I will follow you to the end of this fellowship, this is what I have pledged. Nothing will turn me from this task, I will see it finished." Even as he watched the traces of strain he had seen in the elven eyes were replaced by determination.

"Then take a moment's rest for Gimli's sake." The both looked back in time to see the dwarf trip once again and roll down the hill towards them, stopping at their feet breathless. Yet still he found breath to grumble loudly at their progress, though they knew he would have it no other way. A brisk nod conceded. They would rest.

Gimli sat with a sigh, not daring to remove his boots and allow his feet air, for risk of them swelling and never fitting the boots again. Aragorn slumped beside him, re-gathering his composure. He was well trained for travelling long distances quickly, but even he had to admit exhaustion after the last three days. Legolas was uncertain, unable to be still. Spotting a small copse of trees a short way off he begged the others' leave and jogged lightly towards it. The running had not been wearying for him, but the silence of the open plains and the darkness that the Uruk-Hai imposed upon his heart, threatened to drive all peace from his mind. He hoped the voices of the trees would allow him to throw these thoughts from his mind, and clear it for a time of the grief that haunted him. He had promised Aragorn he would continue on, and he would, whatever it took. He would run to the gates of Mordor if the fellowship led him there. And he would contain his grief until a time it seemed appropriate. Until such time as he had a moment to spare for it, for now he had none, and it was pulling him into despair when so many of his friends were depending on him.

Until later then, he would survive.

The trees had muttered a soft lullaby to him, and he had taken the time to thank them before returning to his friends. At last, well rested, they ran on.


	3. Of Aragorn

3) Of Aragorn

"He fell." He feared the end had come for him - despite his promises - as Gimli uttered those two words. He had been strong on the short ride to Helm's Deep, though he knew Gimli must have felt the shudders that wracked his body, signs of the grief that he couldn't hold back. He dismounted as quickly as possible, near knocking over the stable hand who had taken Arod's bridle as he went and followed the King into a large chamber, feeling his shaking increase in frequency as he moved into the vaulted halls of stone. Almost immediately he moved out again, to Théoden's confusion as he watched the elf stumble, racing from the room. Gimli walked in a moment later, having explained as best he could to Lady Éowyn the circumstances behind Aragorn's demise. The King took him aside in curiosity.

"I have never seen an elf stumble, nor heard of such a thing. Does Legolas sicken? Does something in my halls offend him so?" Gimli's eyes widened at the question, realising what this meant for the elf. Though Gandalf had been returned to them, Aragorn now was lost.

"Where did he go, Lord?" He asked brusquely.

"I know not, only that he left this hall in a hurry." Helm's Deep was a large place, Gimli knew, though he had only caught a glimpse of its full size from around the elf's back as they rode in. He could see no sign of Legolas from the doorway of the hall and all those around him were too busy in themselves to see anyone else. Trying desperately to think like an elf, Gimli decided to move away from the huge stone buildings and into the courtyards. There was very little greenery within the walls, and no trees at all, so Gimli's first idea was crushed. Spotting a man bathing a wound on a horse's leg, inspiration struck and he asked for directions to the stables.

The stables were still busy as the stable hands soothed the restless horses, calming them so that they could be cleaned, tended to and left in peace. The dwarf was given several long glances as he entered the stable and at last a boy came to him and pointed silently at the last stall in the huge hall that houses the horses of the Mark. The stall seemed empty as he approached, no equine face over the door or movement within. It seemed to exude quietness and calm. Even the horses around this stall seemed calmer than the rest. He found he was not tall enough to look over the door as he might have wished and so he reached for the bolt uncertainly. Almost as soon as the door was open the horse inside, which had been lain on the ground, got clumsily to its feet and walked over to him. He recognised Arod and reached up to stroke the nose of his and Legolas' mount, ready to thank the stable hand, but explain that it was not his horse that he was searching for, but his riding companion. He was knocked on his back as Arod's nose hit him solidly in the chest and the horse pulled the door back behind him, returning to the ground. Hurumphing, Gimli got back to his feet and dusted himself off.

"He has done that to all of the stable hands today, since the elf went to sit with him." A young man explained to him as he helped him off the ground. "We thought he might let you in since you are one of his company."

"The elf is inside there?"

"Yes, he came almost as soon as Arod was brought in and untacked. Arod is a horse of Rohan, we have never seen him behave like this before. We can only assume it is the elf's influence."

"I see." He nodded thoughtfully. "Clearly you're a helpful lad, would you mind just kneeling down there for a moment

Gimli landed heavily on the hay inside the stable. With the door still shut behind him there was little the horse would be able to do to expel him. That only left Legolas, but something in him was warning that the last thing the elf needed was to be alone at this moment. The elven weapons lay to one side inside the stall, Aragorn's pendant hanging from the top of the Lothlórien bow.

He steeled himself and moved over to where the horse lay quiet. An intelligent face turned towards him and he was sure he saw the horse smile. His master may have told him that no one was to come in the door, but over it was a different matter. Casually the horse shifted a little and a second figure was revealed, curled into the horse's side as though taking warmth from the animal. Looking at the shivers that wracked the lithe frame he wondered if that was precisely what he was doing.

"Master Elf." He greeted, trying to put his customary humour into the greeting, and not feeling a moment of it. Legolas jumped, which made Gimli jump because never before had he been able to sneak up on the elf, and he had assumed he was being ignored.

"Gimli, it is you." Suddenly Gimli could no longer find words. The voice that had spoken to him was not that of the elven-kind, full of bells and joy. It had almost been a human's voice, rough with wear and toil. And young. So young he sounded in that moment, the dwarf was moved near to tears himself. He moved instead to Legolas' side, kneeling before him with his head bowed. The elf had taken the plaits from his hair and it fell in a curtain around his face, waving slightly where the hair still fell into the shape of the plaits. Here and there were white hairs from the horse and a piece of hay or two. Compared to the elf's usual composed and reserved appearance, he looked well and truly ruffled.

"I think you startled the King with such a sudden exit. He fears he may have offended you in some way."

"I simply could not be within those cold dead walls a moment longer." The reply came, softly.

"I myself suffer greatly for the loss of Aragorn. I was in need of company."

"Why, then, did you not stay in Théoden's halls?"

"I felt that you might need company also. And yet you sought solitude."

"The horses are company enough."

"You seek to hide your weakness from us, and in that make yourself weaker."

"My sorrow for Aragorn is no weakness." Never would he become accustomed to the new harshness he could hear in the elf's voice as he snapped his reply.

"True enough. But your grief is. It is debilitating for you, and I fear I know not what I can do to help." The façade broke for a moment.

"It is as my father told me, I was not ready for war. I could not cope with the grief of losing my fellows, and it has struck me down. I am skilled but have not the control over my own emotions. I am still a child."

"There is no shame in that. There is no shame in emotion."

"For an elf there is shame. Shame and death."

"You will not die while I still live, princeling. I shall not allow it. Who would I have to compete with? Aragorn has no humour, Gandalf is much too stiff. The hobbits would gang up on me and then I would be lost. Who then but you? Nay, I cannot let you pass." The slightest glimmer of a smile and Legolas glanced up at him, showing him but for a moment the sheen of tears in his eyes. Elves did not cry, Gimli frowned. Only the Peredhil - the half-elven - amongst the elven races were known to show such emotion freely. Perhaps this situation was more serious that he had warranted. He wished for the council of Aragorn or Gandalf. Either would know what to do in such a situation, but Gandalf had ridden for help, and Aragorn could no longer help any of them. He was damned if he was going to let the elf die just because he was the only one around to help him. After seeing and hearing the state the elf was in, his death from such an affliction didn't seem so impossible.

"Your companion rides to the gates!" A face had appeared at the stable door and at his news both leapt to their feet.

"Alive!?" Legolas demanded. Was that the ringing of bells Gimli could hear? Or his imagination leading him on

"Brego brings him back to us. He will be inside by now."

"We must go to him." Legolas told Gimli forcefully. Definitely bells. The dwarf smiled.

"You must get the hay out of your hair, Master Elf. Else he think we have been doing more than talking down here." Gimli joked, his spirit lightened. "I will meet Aragorn. You must return his pendant to him away from the crowds."

"_Hannon le_, Gimli." He bowed lightly. "For your company."


	4. Of Haldir

4) Of Haldir

Aragorn paced the halls in his long-legged stride, turning suddenly and storming away from the King, leaving him talking to air. He felt trapped inside the walls and wondered if he would be forced to feel like this forever after if he ever reached Gondor and took the throne. He was too used to elven quarters and beds beneath open stars. He would take rooms in inns on the wettest of nights and those that boded ill, but naught else could drag him from the world of nature he had been brought up in. Thinking as he was of Rivendell as he wandered through Helm's Deep his thoughts turned to Legolas and Gimli and he decided to seek them out. Their constant bickering had always raised his spirits, neither of them realising how child-like they could sound.

They would ride for Isenguard in the morn and he wanted to find some level of peace tonight and be well rested. He didn't want to follow in the paths of the Roharrim and get blind drunk if he was to ride the very next day to further battle.

Neither of his companions were in their rooms, nor in the halls of Helm's Deep with the people of Rohan, drinking and feasting on the little provisions they had brought with them. Gimli he finally found in the caves behind the fortress, examining the rock formations with as much glee as a smoker in Southfarthing. He was eventually convinced (though not without much encouragement and promise of ale) to help the ranger find the elf.

Gimli had simply laughed when Aragorn asked if he might not be further into the caves and led him towards the huge stables.

"He mourns for nature and trees." The dwarf explained as they walked leisurely through the paved walkways. "The horses are the closest he can get. Especially since he has been banned from entering the forest which has recently appeared on the outskirts." Aragorn could only laugh.

"Since when does a dwarf know more about an elf than one raised by them!?" Gimli's countenance grew grim, though the question had been light-hearted.

"There were many hours, man, when you were missing from our lives. For the first time I truly feared for Legolas' life. Never before have I seen an elf cry and never do I hope to see it again." Aragorn stopped abruptly, shocked.

"Tears are the last stage of grief, friend-Gimli. But you were here with him, and for that I am relieved," Aragorn placed an hand on Gimli's shoulder, his voice lowering. "for I have no doubt you have saved his life. Grief in solitude there is nothing worse."

"I will admit to wishing for your presence in that moment, or that of the wizard. For I was at a loss."

"I hope we shall not find him in a similar way tonight. Much elven blood has been spilled and there were rumours that Haldir was of a relation to our elf. I curse my own lack of thought, I should have sought him out sooner, for I have no doubt he will be in need of company tonight. Haldir was friend to me and mine, and his loss weighs heavy on my heart."

"Then the elf is not the only one in need of company, my friend." Gimli added. "Come, let us find some hope in laughter. This may be one of the last nights under a roof for some time. That it be the roof to the stables matters little."

In the courtyard before the stables they found a large cart, loaded and covered, ready for travel. A horse was being harnessed to the cart as they watched, and the man harnessing the horse was revealed quickly to be Legolas. He looked up as his name was called, smiling a soft greeting to his friends and returning to his task, fixing the multitude of straps and buckles on the complex harness.

"Not running away are you, Master Elf?" Gimli teased, taking the smile as a good sign.

"Nay, Dwarf. Simply preparing some friends for their last trip." The last was said with a sigh. "The elven dead will be taken to the Grey Havens and await there a boat into the west, where their bodies will be lain to rest. The injured are taking them, so that we shall be spared those fit to fight. They will follow us onwards."

"Does Haldir accompany these?" Aragorn asked softly, gesturing to the wagon.

"No. Haldir wished to remain on Middle Earth. He will be buried here, with the fallen Roharrim. He will be honoured this way." Legolas turned away as the last buckle was fitted and the elves that would accompany the bier took the horse from him. The three watched in silence as it was led away. "So few of us intend to remain on Middle Earth once Círdan the boatbuilder has sailed. Now we are one less."


	5. Elrond Visits Legolas

5) Elrond visits Legolas

Elrond approached Legolas cautiously, taking in as much of the young elf's appearance as he could before confronting him with the information he carried. The delivery of the Andúril, the Sword Re-forged, had gone well, and the new found determination he had seen in Aragorn's eyes had made hope soar in his heart for Middle Earth and for the life of his daughter. Not for nothing had his foster son once gone by the name _Estel_ - hope. But now the Peredhil had a very different task ahead.

"Legolas, I would speak to you." He said, finally.

"I wondered if you were simply admiring the view." The sharp retort brought the briefest of smiles to his face. He could see the dulling of the power of the Eldar in the young prince, and hear the harshness in his voice that many would not notice, for still his voice was fair, compared to man or dwarf. But if he was well enough to make such retorts, maybe he would not suffer as he father had predicted. Elrond had always thought the King of Mirkwood too doubting of his son.

"You father has asked me to relay a message to you if I were to see you." This caught the young elf's attention.

"Then I beg you forgive me for that comment, it was ill-thought. I meant no disrespect."

"Times are hard, Legolas. I begrudge you no opportunity for humour." He offered a wry smile, and took a breath of apprehension over what he had to say next. "Your father has said that he intends to travel over sea on the next ship. He has no doubts about the fate of the fellowship, and would have you at his side for his voyage west, away from all this darkness."

"He would have me abandon the fellowship." The young elf looked stunned. "As if it meant nothing. As if there were nothing I could do to help."

"He fears it will all be for nothing. He does not want to lose you, Legolas. Not when the elves are leaving Middle Earth and its future is of no consequence to your people."

"But I intend to stay, Lord Elrond. And have planned to do so for some time. I cannot desert the fellowship now, not when we are so close." There was a moment's pause as Elrond observed Legolas once more.

"Thranduil was right when he said you were too young for such a quest." He continued eventually. "I disbelieved him, yet I see the pain of grief in your eyes too clearly."

"And yet I am still here, Lord Elrond. I have not lost to it yet. I still have hopes that we will win through."

"None the less, what will be left of you to celebrate that winning day?"

Legolas sat, listening to the dwarf's heavy footsteps as he lumbered towards him. He turned in his seat and greeted his friend with a smile he did not feel as he was offered a steaming mug. Often since he had met the irritating, scowling, bearded thing at Elrond's council, he had wondered at the enmity between elves and dwarves, for it seemed to him that it had all arisen from their differences. Dwarves were loud where elves were quiet, had no respect for the trees save for the power that they could give them as fuel, liked dark and dismal caves over the light of a spring morning. These were no reasons for war and hatred. His promise to Gimli, that together they would visit the forest of Fangorn and the caves of Helm's Deep, seemed only to prove that these were foolish things to hold another race in contempt for.

"What troubles your mind, Master Elf?" Asked the dwarf in question.

"My father has asked me to travel with him over sea, to the Valar's arms and eternal peace."

"It will be nice to make such a journey with your father." Gimli hazarded, uncertain of the source of Legolas' disquiet.

"I have refused. He is leaving now, for he fears all of our efforts will be in vain and does not wish to see his home lost to Sauron's power." Gimli's mouth formed an 'o' of understanding.

"You will not see him again, then?"

"No, he will have passed when this is all over. It was something I have been expecting, in truth, but I had not expected him to ask me to desert the fellowship. Nor expected him to leave so soon."

"He cannot help but care for you, to want you at his side."

"He dishonours me by doubting me. By doubting the fellowship."

"Will you join him after the fellowship is done?"

"I know not. What use is there for an archer in a land of eternal peace? On Middle Earth at least I have some use. Some place to belong. I fear, though the sea calls my name from afar, I shall never wish to travel to a life where my existence means nothing. Where I can do no good, be of no help."

"I would give anything to live such a life," Gimli mused. "to have time outside of war for my craft. Dwarves are not such war-faring creatures as you might suspect, Master Elf. Once we were creators of beauty like yourselves. Though ours was of metal when yours was of nature. We are not so dissimilar as our people would have us think."

"You are wiser than I, Gimli son of Glóin, despite my greater years. Though I fear I have no craft aside from war. It was the life I was born to. I cannot imagine a life without it."


	6. Minas Tirith

6) Minas Tirith

They rode in silence through the town, rubble about their feet telling of the recent desolation of the once proud city of Minas Tirith. Already work had begun on re-fortification. It would be proud again, of that Aragorn had no doubt. Bursts of noise began filling the silence with woe as those on stretchers and carried unmoving, over the backs of horses were identified. Despite the desolation there was hope in the eyes that remained on Aragorn as he pulled his mount to a halt in the courtyard, waiting for an answer to their futures.

"The evil of Mordor is once again quenched." He called out. The King's voice filled the city as if the city had been waiting for it, holding its breath. "The ring of power has been destroyed. No more will our people be troubled by the evil of Sauron!" The noise was an uproar, horses stirring uncertainly as the huge sound filled the whole of the city, flooding from person to person until all voices were raised in a joyous call. Calming his horse as he dismounted, Aragorn held his head high though fatigue threatened to overwhelm him. He looked to those of the fellowship who remained around him. Gandalf, assuring him of the two hobbits safety from the back of an eagle, had flown with them to Elrond's care, knowing no other healer would have the skill or power to take the shadow of Mordor and the Ring from both hearts. As soon as he could free himself from his responsibilities here he would travel with the others to check on them. The path would be faster without the troubling of orcs or detours via Fangorn or Moria. Moria his thoughts darkened at the thought of that place.

They brightened again at the sight of Merry and Pippin, struggling from their mounts aided by those who had ridden with them. Since Gandalf had left to aid Frodo and Sam, Pippin had taken up a seat in front of Éomer who was struggling not to laugh at the hobbit's attempts to dismount gracefully from the horse who was obviously too big for him. Éowyn had offered Merry a hand down which he had gracefully accepted, one arm clasped to his chest in an attempt to immobilise his injured wrist. Aragorn pushed a healer in his direction, knowing that there were others more grievously wounded, but needing the two hobbits' companionship for what would come next. Binding the hobbit's wrist would only take a moment.

Gimli was already dismounted, Legolas having lingered pointedly beside a mounting block in the entrance to save the dwarf any embarrassment, and was wandering through the crowds, making sure all that needed treatment received it.

Aragorn's eyes met Legolas' and hovered there for a moment. He had fallen to the back of the company as they travelled back towards Minas Tirith. Seeing that he was only helping the injured as they made their slow way home, Aragorn had made no comment. Now though, he stood by Arod's side, hushing him as he tried to back away from the floods of noise and bustle that was stirring his sensitive nerves. Funny that the horse of Rohan could charge into battle with barely a flinch and yet within the crowds of friends he appeared unsettled. And somehow the look in Legolas' eyes was much the same. He looked intimidated by the crowd, eyes flickering from face to face, jumping as each new person brushed by him. The riders to stable their horses, the injured to the healers, those too late for help taken to the rooms set aside, to await burial. The look in his eyes was almost pitiful and Aragorn longed to walk to him and take him in his arms. But too soon he was claimed by his new kingdom and dragged away.

"Aragorn, I have need to talk with you. 'Tis regarding the elf." Half of the advisors who the new King had been meeting with leapt to their feet, objecting at the intrusion.

"You cannot simply walk in on a King's council!" Shouted one outraged advisor.

"Danien." Faramir's soft voice lowered the man back to his seat, though he was still fuming.

"Gimli Elf-friend." Aragorn greeted, enjoying seeing the haughty advisor put in his place. This was the most excitement he'd had in nearly a week. Gimli looked completely unruffled by the attention he was bringing to himself.

"I fear his condition is worsening." Gimli continued.

"His condition? I was not aware he was hurt."

"I daresay he has not been truly well since Gandalf fell in the mines of Moria. Now that his commitment to the fellowship is done he is fading Aragorn." The King stood and hurried towards the dwarf. He turned at the last moment to Faramir, an appeal in his eyes.

"The stewards have watched over your kingdom for many years, Elessar, a few more days will not hurt."

"But you are still not fully well I should not."

"That's what all these men are for, Aragorn." He smiled, gesturing around the room. "Now go, as an advisor I shall tell you that letting the Prince of Mirkwood fade away within your kingdom would be an ill move."

"Thank you, my friend."

"This has not come as quickly as it did in Helm's Deep, this has been a deterioration. The hobbits have been sitting with him, but he seems not to listen any more." Gimli explained as they hastened along the corridors.

"Elrond will arrive tomorrow, the day after at the latest, for the crowning. He will bring Frodo and Sam and Gandalf. Elrond will be able to help, he is a healer of the highest quality."

"Then we must ensure he remains with us until he arrives."

"He is that far progressed!? I should have been more attentive. How could I have overlooked this!?"

"You have had larger responsibilities. You are not to blame for this."

"Nothing should be more important than friendship, Gimli."

"You are a King now, Aragorn. There is more at stake for you now." They wandered the halls in silence for a while, Aragorn wincing at every person who paused to bow or curtsey, much to Gimli's amusement. "I should warn you." He continued, "I don't think the halflings have been sober since they returned from the gates of Mordor. It is their own way of coping with events. We have tried to get the elf drunk, but it seems impossible, a waste of good ale."

"If all else fails there is elven wine in the cellars, it will be a little more effective. But it should be a last resort, for it could drive him either way."

"I must ask, for it is a question that has pressed me often and I have never found the right moment to voice it. How old is the elf? He speaks often of his father's disapproval of his actions, and of his own childishness."

"Truth be told I do not know of Legolas' age. Once they have reached full growth 'tis often hard to tell the age of an elf, save from experiences and behaviour. I know he was not present in the Battle of Dagorlad, when Sauron was first defeated, though both his father and grandfather fought there and it was there that his grandfather fell and his father took the throne of Mirkwood. This puts his age under three thousand years, that is a young man in elven years, and would suit his behaviour well. If I were to guess, then I would say between two and three thousand years. You must ask him yourself, for only he would know." Gimli thought on this as they turned the last corner to reach Legolas' room.

"On the field I would agree on your estimate, for he wields his bow with a skill only millenia could bring. And yet there is an innocence to him." Gimli paused with his hand on Legolas' door. "We cannot let him fade away."

"I have no intention of it." Nodding his approval, Gimli walked inside.

The Prince of Mirkwood was slumped - in a most unelven position - down in his chair, his gaze on the floor. He glanced up as the two newcomers arrived, but spared them no smile or greeting, his attention returning to the floor.

"Legolas, we are going riding." Aragorn stated suddenly. "Arod is not used to such confinement, he is getting upset." Legolas looked up and a flicker of concern crossed his features before he looked away again.

"I cannot, Aragorn." As Gimli had been at Helm's Deep, Aragorn was taken aback at the dullness in the elf's tone. The gift of the Eldar seemed to be seeping from him, his skin too was dull and without its elven inner-light.

"Brego is also in need of exercise. I would not have time for both."

"Gimli then" His gaze turned on the dwarf.

"You are more befuddled than I thought if you can see me on Arod alone. Besides, now that he has discovered elven masters he will carry no other."

"Come my friend. We will be gone but an hour, you would soon be returned to the hobbit's thrilling company." Aragorn glanced meaningfully at the two snoring lumps in Legolas' bed.

Legolas stood slowly, wearily, and wavered slightly on reaching vertical. Man and dwarf both made a move to steady him but he batted away both pairs of hands. He stood for a moment and it seemed a light flowed back into him in that short time for they could almost believe he was back to normal as he stepped away from them and grasped his quiver and knives and slung them over his back. It was the work of a moment to string his bow and step into his boots and he was stood by the door expectantly, confused at the smile on the man's face.

"Come then, Aragorn, if we are to go." The commanding, arrogant tone was a welcome replacement for the weary whine. Grinning back at the dwarf, Aragorn followed Legolas from the room in much higher spirits that he had entered it.


	7. Of Thranduil

7) Of Thranduil

It was only a small gathering of trees - not enough to warrant the description forest, or even wood. So small was it, that it only appeared on the most detailed of maps and no one had ever bothered to name it. It lay just out of Minas Tirith, before the border of the Drúadan Forest - the home of the Drúedain.

This was Aragorn's destination as Brego took the reign offered to him and galloped across the plain. Arod kept pace with him, though seemingly without aids from his rider, as he wore no saddle or bridle - elven hands on his neck speaking in ways Aragorn could never hope to understand.

They drew to a halt as the road passed into the arms of the trees, both horses panting and shifting about excitedly. Moving from the road they left the horses to graze as they shared the bottle of water that Aragorn had brought. Resting against a huge tree, Aragorn watched Legolas as he wandered amongst the trees, his steps almost a dance to some melody no man would ever hear. A sudden gust of wind had the leaves rattling and four faces lifted to the sky. A word soothed the horses and Legolas returned to where Aragorn was sitting, smiling whimsically.

"There is no sound I love more than the strong winds through the trees. So likened to the sea perhaps that is why I love it so." The first that Legolas had said to the ranger since they had left his room, Aragorn sensed his need to talk and allowed him to tree's silence to fill. "The sea-longing draws me, Aragorn. And I fear it will have me before long." Legolas looked through the trees to the west, as though staring out at the large expanse that spoke the end for his people on Middle Earth, though Aragorn knew that mountains would block the sight from his elven-eyed companion. "I fear I am too young to pass, I am not ready. I have not yet found my place, my craft."

"You have great skill with a bow."

"In wielding one, yes. But this is a craft of war, it is of no use to me in peace. The elves came to Middle Earth to learn and to teach. But as our time here faded all thoughts have moved to war."

"How old are you, Legolas? Surely the elves have not given everything to war for so long."

"The shadow has rested on Greenwood the Great for near two thousand years. Little has been taught or learned in these darkened years save the craft of war. Greenwood became Mirkwood, a hated place where evil dwelled. I have never seen Greenwood the Great, Aragorn, for I was born to Mirkwood, a mere five hundred years passed."

"Only five hundred but we have taken a child into war. No wonder you have suffered from grief, this is no place for"

"You forget, _man_, that I still have over five times your years." Legolas' face hardened at Aragorn's response. "Do not doubt me now, not after I have done my part for the fellowship."

"I have seen elves of a thousand who still appear as a child. No older than ten years of men do they look. How then?"

"Elves do not grow or age as humans do. They can spend a hundred years as a babe in arms, and then in the space of a few weeks they can become as a child or even fully grown if they wish it. I will not look an aged man until my father has passed and I have taken the throne in Mirkwood if that ever comes to pass." He sighed. "I came to my current appearance within two hundred years." A grim look passed over his face. "I have not seen my home without the evil of Sauron haunting it. I have fought all my life. My father suggested that my quick ageing was necessary, for some higher purpose, and so he trained me as though I were older. But always has he kept me close."

"The fellowship was your purpose." A brief nod. "And now that you have fulfilled it, you will go over sea?" Legolas sighed at the question, eyes saddening.

"I fear it greatly, and long for it in the same breath. I will remain on Middle Earth for a while, still there is need of an archer as many orcs walk abroad."

The two friends sat together in silence for a while longer before gathering their things and mounting their horses once more. Legolas glanced back over his shoulder as they prepared to return to the city, only to spot a figure in the distance, too far for even his vision to make out any details.

"A rider comes along the northern pass." He frowned as he told Aragorn. "A rider in some haste, it seems, and alone. A messenger perhaps?" He looked to the King.

"I am expecting no news save the reports from Osgiliath in the East and Rohan in the West. 'Tis too early to expect news from Rivendell, unless something has gone amiss"

"We should ride out and meet them." Legolas suggested. Aragorn turned Brego and trotted quickly towards the road, Legolas close behind. "King Elessar, hide the elf-stone that gives you your name, we should be cautious and nothing else gives away your status so easily." Aragorn nodded and tucked the pendant inside his shirt as they moved on the figure that was finally becoming visible to the man as a dot in the distance. There was a gasp from beside him and before he could turn to look at Legolas for the source of the noise the elf was away, galloping madly across the plain towards the other horse.

"Legolas!" He shouted after him, spurring his own mount onwards.

The two riders had met by the time Aragorn reached them, and he slowed as he approached to take in the situation. Neither of the horses standing nearby were tacked - another elf then, he deduced. Obviously someone Legolas knew, for they were embracing as he moved closer and Legolas turned to him as he rode up, the smile on his face radiant.

"King Elessar of Gondor, I would present to you the King Thranduil, of Mirkwood." As the older elf turned, Aragorn was struck by the similarities in appearance of this man to Legolas. His father, he registered though the two had been introduced as Kings rather than friends. Aragorn dismounted quickly to offer a bow, which was returned with elven grace.

"King Elessar, I have come to request for the second time the release of my son from the duty of your fellowship, to take him over sea to the Valar."

"His life is not mine to rule, King Thranduil. But I offer you the comfort of my halls in which to discuss this with him."

"Your offer is greatly appreciated, for it is a long ride from my home for an elf such as myself. I gave up such travels long ago, and I am weary from the road."

As they rode back towards Minas Tirith, Thranduil talked of the battles that had been held in Mirkwood over the last few months between the elves and the forces of darkness. It almost seemed to the man that he was trying to make Legolas feel guilty for leaving his home, though he knew it had been the King who had sent Legolas out to Rivendell as a messenger of Gollum's escape. Finally the talk turned to more recent days and, excitedly, the King announced, "I received a visit from Celeborn of Lothlórien, who has not visited the eaves of our forest for many millenia. Galadriel leaves Middle Earth, the power of her ring - Nenya - is undone. The leaves of Lórien are for the first time falling. The elves of Lórien would move to Dol Guldur in Eryn Lasgalen, forming East Lórien."

"Eryn Lasgalen - the wood of greenleaves?" Legolas questioned.

"Mirkwood is no more. The darkness of old has been driven from our forest, with all who served them."

"Then the shadow"

"It has been lifted. Evil no longer resides within our home." Joy filled Legolas' face at the thought, but his countenance darkened.

"And yet you would still go, still leave Middle Earth."

"I would do anything to relieve the pain I see now in your eyes, my son, even leave my renewed kingdom." It was Aragorn who first saw the flicker of pain that crossed Legolas' face even as his father spoke these words. He brought Brego close alongside Arod, worried that the elf might fall from the Rohirrian mount, and placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder. He seemed startled by the touch and looked curiously at Aragorn who moved back, satisfied that the moment had passed. Taking a moment to observe his elven companion as he returned to conversation with Thranduil, Aragorn sighed as he realised he was looking near as weary as when they had started their ride, all of the peace that the trees had brought him undone by the presence of his father. Or maybe it was not Thranduil's fault, and the peace he had found had been simply a temporary measure, wearing away again as they moved from the woods. As the entered the gates of Minas Tirith the presence of the second elf brought much curiosity and they had to wade through the people of the city to get to the stables and then through further crowds to the halls themselves.

Aragorn watched with anxiety as Legolas' breathing became laboured, his eyes taking on the panicked look he had last seen at the end of the last battle. Even as he was preparing to shout over the crowd to clear the way, a voice he was sure he recognised called out 'Elves! Elves at the front gate!' and the host flooded from in front of him towards the front gate to greet the new visitors. He sighed, knowing he too would have to go to meet the newcomers, not knowing their purpose here unless they had followed the King. A hobbit appeared in front of him even as he prepared to go.

"Aragorn!" Merry whispered, though there were few people around to listen anyway. "Pippin will lead them away. The path to the halls are open." Then he winked and promptly disappeared from view.

"Well well." Thranduil mused. "It has been a long time since I have seen a Periannath, let alone so far south. And dressed in the garb of Rohan if I am not mistaken."

"Strange things have come to pass in the making of this fellowship. Not least should be thought my own tolerance for travelling with a dwarf." Legolas laughed quietly. Aragorn knew Legolas did a lot more than tolerate Gimli, for they had become fast friends, near inseparable, but such a things should be broken lightly to a King who has fought with dwarves all of his life. Especially when the father of the dwarf in question had publicly embarrassed the King by escaping his dungeons with his companions, leaving barely a trace of their passing.

"Indeed." Murmured the Elvenking as he marched on ahead.

Legolas excused himself when they reached the turning to the food halls, heading back towards his room and his now emptied bed. He felt exhausted and found it hard to scrape up the energy to smile at his father when he assured him that he was simply weary from the ride and the excitement of the day. Thranduil looked far from convinced, but allowed himself to be led towards the dining halls.

As soon as he was sure he was out of sight Legolas relaxed a little and was forced to reach for the nearest wall as Middle Earth spun around him, buckling him at the knees. He held himself still until the feeling had passed and then pulled himself to his feet, not giving up the support the wall offered. Breathing deeply, he hurried for his rooms, hoping the feeling of weakness that was infusing him would pass with sleep.

For a moment, as they entered the dining halls, Aragorn wondered if there would be a confrontation between the Elvenking and the dwarf who was already seated at the table. There was a moment when two pairs of eyes met, and a scowl graced both faces, but Thranduil moved to the table and took the steward's customary seat on the right hand of the King, leaving Faramir to take the seat on the table opposite, beside Gimli and the hobbits. Having dined on fare which was impressive for a feast at such short notice, Thranduil too excused himself and headed for the room he was told held his son.

As he stepped inside, silent, save for the slight creak of the door as he closed it behind him, Thranduil was overtaken by a wave of grief as he saw his son. He lay on white sheets, hardly more than a blond shadow, light become dark. Thranduil fell into a nearby chair, thanking Elbereth that there was no one near to see his weakness, and let his head fall into his hands.

"Oh, my son, my son. What have they done to you? To drag you through darkness and death, to the very gates of Mordor you have gone for these people. And now, when your uses are done to abandon you to your fate, to let you fade away unchecked. How dare they call themselves elf-friends. I know your heart is warm, my son. I have heard the title you have gifted to the dwarf. But you are too young to see them for what they are." Thranduil looked up from his hands, his face hardening. "I shall take you from this. I will allow you to suffer no more. Tomorrow at first light, my son, I shall come for you."

When Thranduil left the room there were two guards outside waiting for him.

"We are your escort, my Lord. We have come to take you to your rooms and watch over you while you are here." It seemed to take the Elvenking a moment to focus on the two, but once he had, he smiled.

"Good, I have need of you. One of you run to the stables, tell the stable hands that my own horse and one for my son should be prepared for dawn tomorrow with filled packs for six day's ride. The other run fetch me a flagon of wine and bring it to me in my chambers." The guards shared a glance of confusion, but quickly moved to do what they had been asked, leaving Thranduil alone again. He sighed, and moved along the corridor quietly. He stifled a start as a second pair of footsteps joined his own. "I did not hear you there." He told Aragorn, glancing back at him. "Your talents appear to be many, King of men."

"You were distracted, I did not mean to interrupt."

"I am glad to have seen you. Legolas and I will leave tomorrow at dawn, preparations are being made for our departure. I rode here quickly, we may still make the next ship."

"We rode for less than a day today and he was near collapse with exhaustion when we returned. Will he make such a journey without a worsening of his condition?"

"So you _have_ realised that he grieves?" The Elvenking sounded surprised.

"How could we not? His strength wanes, he grows pale and withdrawn I had been busy with my duties as a new King to Gondor, it was Gimli who brought my attention to his current condition and we rode together today with the intention of lightening his spirits."

"The dwarf" Thranduil sneered. "What business does he have with my son?"

"They are friends, my Lord, of the closest kind. They would give their lives for each other. Such a friendship is a rare thing, especially between"

"You think to tell me of my own race?" The Elvenking interrupted. "Gimli son of Glóin comes from a long line of thieves and criminals, I do not know how he has manipulated my son, but he will be out of his reach by the morrow." Aragorn looked set to object, but in a moment's rage, the King turned on him, face red and voice raised. "Legolas is dying, King of Gondor, through your abuse of his innocence." His voice cracked momentarily, before he gathered his composure with an iron will. "No no, I must get him far from here. In the lands of the Valar he still has some hope."

As dawn began to colour the sky outside his window the next morning, King Thranduil of Mirkwood opened his door to find a dwarf standing before him.

"I would speak to you." Was the brusque statement, no courtesy applied to smooth the demand over.

"Then speak, and move out of my way."

"I wish only to ensure you are not forcing Legolas to leave Middle Earth. 'Til this morn he was adamant he would be remaining."

"Would you claim to know my son better than myself?" Thranduil demanded.

'Yes, you arrogant' Gimli mentally retorted.

"Of course not, sir." He interrupted himself verbally. "But Legolas has often talked of his fear of what lies over sea"

"No elf would fear the Valar. He talks in anticipation! You have misunderstood him."

"Though the sea-longing holds him he still intended to stay with"

"Legolas has _made_ his decision, and you will no longer hold him from his true path, dwarf." The Elvenking managed to put the spite of ages into that single word.

"_Adar_!" Legolas looked near-furious, in spite of the fact that he was leaning heavily on the wall for support. Thranduil turned on his son, his posture confrontational.

"Do not _'adar'_ me." He growled. "This rabble of men and perian and dwarves have corrupted you and caused you pain. This is not your fault and I know that, the folly lies with that damn Peredhil, but I will be the one to take you away from this before more harm befalls you."

"Did you think to consult me on this?" The King gaped at his son's insolence. There was a hardness in the face that was so similar to his own. A hardness that should not be seen in eyes so young.

"I did not need to, Legolas. I fear you may have forgotten in your slumber, but _you are my son_!"

"I am too old for your coddling, King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen. I have proved myself to my friends and my kin. I am subject to your rule no more."

"Then as your King!"

"As your subject, I have a right to choose my own time to pass over sea."

"I cannot believe you would" Thranduil suddenly looked very old. "You would forsake me?" Legolas flinched.

"I have no wish to pass over sea, Adar."

"An ultimatum then." Both sighed. "But what of the sea-longing, it is plain in your eyes, in the looks you cast unknowing to the west."

"Fear keeps me from the sea, as much as longing draws me. I am caught between these two and will not yet move either way."

"Yet you will pass eventually?"

"I cannot say."

"How will you quell the grief that haunts you even now? I will not leave you here to die."

"He has friends." Came the gruff statement from the stout figure who they had all-but forgotten about.

"And do his friends have the power of forgetfulness and healing? Hmmm?"

"I would not forget my grief, _Adar_, for it represents the passing of many dear friends. Instead I would have it fade from my heart in the company of good friends, until I no longer remember the pain, only the good that I once saw."

"I would not have your grief take you even as I travel over sea!"

"We will not allow it." Gimli assured. For the first time, it seemed, Thranduil truly looked at the dwarf.

"Then so it will be" Both turned quickly as Legolas slumped to the floor, neither close enough to catch him.

"_His light is fading_."

"_Come, stay close, he will take comfort_

"_Breathe deeply_ ernil-nin."

Legolas woke slowly to the scent of pipe-weed, opening his eyes even as Elrond chased the wizard from the room, pipe and all. Looking around him he found Gimli asleep in a chair on his right - still clinging to his axe as if his life depended on it; Merry at the foot of his bed and Elrond now taking what he assumed to be Mithrandir's emptied chair on his left.

"Good morn, Prince of Mirkwood." He greeted, with a glimmer of a smile. Gimli awoke with a start at his voice, jumping from his seat with his axe raised. "There are no demons here whom would submit to your axe, Gimli son of Glóin, calm yourself." Elrond admonished, one eyebrow raised. Gimli took his seat again, abashed. He leapt from it once more when he realised Legolas was awake.

"Well Master Elf! 'Tis a bright morn that sees you awake, Aragorn quite feared that you would slumber though his crowning."

"And that would never do." Legolas smiled softly, voice hoarse from sleep. "How long have I lain asleep?"

"Near two days." Elrond provided. "The crowning is at noon today, you must hurry if you are to get ready. The King of Eryn Lasgalen would be loath to see his son underdressed on such an occasion."

"Ai! Adar will have missed his ship."

"The _Grief of Lórien_ will not wait for your father, but had he tried to take you with him as he intended you would surely have died. It was only through the vigils of your friends that you were restored, and still you cannot be considered well by any measurement. There is another ship to leave shortly and he shall be granted a place aboard it, have no fear of that. And now, I must go and check on my daughter. Her love was with you when we arrived and so he has not seen her, he fears what I might say too much to ask me for news of her and is too busy to ask anyone else. A future King has much to do." With this he bowed lightly to Legolas and left the room with only the whispers of his clothes to mark his passing.

"The _Grief of Lórien_." Legolas sighed. "With it travels many friends, to their rest. It will soothe my heart to know they are at peace."


	8. Of Shipbuilding

8) Of Ship-building

Legolas stood upon a cliff, the bite of the wind on his face. Arod stirred restlessly at his back and he looked up to see another horse riding across the plains towards him. He smiled as he recognised Aragorn on Brego, and turned back to his thoughts. The air tasted different here, salt forming on his lips as he kept his vigil. It felt like he was staring out over the end of the world, though he knew in his heart there were many other lands out there, too far for any eye to see. The sea shifted, restless, calling. The voice of the trees in a desolate tree-less place.

"A long way to go to exercise the horses, don't you think?" Gimli's voice surprised him for the dwarf had always venomously refused to ride a horse except when accompanied, indeed to ride at all unless great need drew him.

"You have walked fast to get so far so quickly, Gimli Elf-friend. Or is it possible you have been obliged to take a steed once more?" The dwarf simply grunted.

"We were concerned for you, Legolas." Aragorn added, leaving Brego with Arod.

"I wished to bid my father farewell."

"Can you still see the Ring-Bearer's ship?"

"No, it was far from my vision even before its journey started. But I have watched other ships as they have travelled by me, and I have thought of many things as I have watched them pass. I believe I may have found the craft I have waited for."

"I see. And what would that be, Master Elf?" Gimli questioned, sharing a smile with the man.

"I am going to build a ship."

If you liked this please go and review because THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL! And I can't fix things you don't like if you don't tell me you don't like them, 'k?

Estel - hope

Adar - Father

Ernil-nin - my prince

Hannon le - thank you

Periannath / Perian - hobbit

Peredhil - half-elven (_usually used in reference to Elrond, though it will also apply to Aragorn and Arwen's children, and Elros; Aragorn's ancestor, Elrond's twin brother_)

- Círdan was said to leave Middle Earth both with the ring-bearers, and with the last ship to cross to the west. There's confusion here, because Legolas' ship also goes west. I've left him with the Ring-bearers, and Thranduil too, though we don't know if he passes at all.

- Obvious assumptions made as to Legolas' age - but since JRR Tolkien makes no reference what so ever to Legolas' history other than identifying his father, I think he's pretty much a free-reign character.

- I have used Brego instead of Hasufel to keep continuity.

- Pretty much AU with Elrond bringing Frodo, Sam and Gandalf back to Minas Tirith from Rivendell, but that whole scene didn't make sense in the movie and we didn't get to see Ithilien, so I couldn't write for that so easily.


End file.
